


A Man of Great Accomplishment

by TheWormThatTurns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:21:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWormThatTurns/pseuds/TheWormThatTurns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone simply has to live up to the reputation Gilderoy Lockhart made for himself. Unfortunately for him, he's not precisely the one doing all that living. AU. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Great Accomplishment

 

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Ah, yes, it's so nice to finally meet you in person, Rita, please sit. Is it too terribly forward of me to call you Rita, ha ha?

Oh, it isn't? Well, that is good news, good news indeed. I do so like calling people by their first names. Gives me a sense of comradery, of friendship, and I daresay — if it's not to brazen — I daresay that I'd very much like all the friends I could possibly have. I've always been a man of the people, really. There's nothing like rallying hearts and minds, having people look upon your great deeds, knowing your name ...

Hm? Yes, yes, of course you can put that on the record, Rita. We're friends, but this is an interview, after all, ha ha. I wouldn't dream of stifling your creativity, darling. You have such a ... passion for writing. Words written with your lovely green quill go far, very far.

But I do forget myself. You must have questions. Please, ask away.

No, wait, I've been rude. Would you care for refreshments? As you can see, my house-elves have done their best to give us a proper full tea, and I wouldn't want a guest to go without in my home. Here, I'll pour. One sugar and a bit of lemon, you say? Why, you have a sophisticated palate, don't you? I thought as much. You have the look of an 'acquired taste' type, dear.

Cakes? Sandwich? Scone? You should really try the clotted cream; it's divine.

What was that? Yes, I do so enjoy politeness these days, perhaps to the point of excess, but oh, aren't these macarons blissful little creations? If you don't have one, I'll probably eat them all, Rita, really. This sweet tooth of mine does make it difficult keeping my smile so award winning, ah ha ha.

Thank you, darling. I am still completely amazed that so many witches find my smile 'charming'. Why, I hardly think of myself as handsome, you know. What? It's positively true.

You see, I grew up — well, I suppose it's been so long since this happened that it doesn't matter what I say. The people involved are mostly dead and gone by now, and the truth won't hurt them ... Where was I? Oh yes, I was about to say that I never found anything of value in myself for, you see, I was born of misfortune. No, that isn't in my biography. I hardly think telling readers about my pitiful childhood alone, unloved, and destitute would inspire many readers.

The whole thing sounds a bit unreal, doesn't it? The poor orphan drags himself from obscurity only to rise to the top of the Wizarding World, beloved by all? If I read that in a book, I'd probably throw it against the wall.

Hm? No, not if you wrote it, Rita, my sweet. I'd read that cover to cover just to know what you said about me. After all, the things you do with prose, well, they're quite memorable.

Why you have such modesty. I'd hardly call what I said 'flattery'.

Silver tongued? Me? Oh, but I've had people claim it was forked more than once. What a shame that would be, playing the snake. A man could tire of it eventually, so much so that he'd contemplate living the life of another ... Ah, yet here I am babbling away when you came here with questions. Please, ask, ask!

My childhood? Yes, I suppose you would want to know about that after I brought it up.

No, my dear, no, I'll tell you. Someone must know. Confession, it is said, is good for the soul, although how much of _that_ I have within me is a question better left to scholars or perhaps Unspeakables — but I do get ahead of myself.

My mother, she was ... she was a fanciful woman, one might say. Prone to delusions. That's why my father left her alone, pregnant, starving. If she'd been less foolish, she might have survived and I'd be telling you a different tale. But I'm not ... and ... well, there isn't much to explain about her because I don't remember her at all. She died right after I was born. A tragedy, some might call it.

She was a witch, you see, and she'd died in bustling London, which meant I wasn't left amongst wizards but _Muggles_.

Oh, you are right, Rita. The situation was entirely unpleasant. The people who supervised me — 'raised' would be too inaccurate a word — those people, they didn't understand what I was, what I could do, nor did the other orphans understand. To them, all of them, I was different, strange, wrong. They ... they failed to correct what they perceived as my aberrations, which, in turn, led to more punishments for me. Missed meals, verbal abuse, and worse ... worse _things_. Of course, they didn't expect retaliation by way of accidental magic. I frightened them often, something that was both terrifying and exhilarating for a boy who never had any power.

Once those pitiable creatures connected the dimming lights and slamming doors with each bruise or lecture I earned, they tended to leave me alone. Some were ... persistent, but when I gained a greater mastery over my magic, when I could use it without a wand, not even knowing what it was, when I held sway, they kept away altogether.

Powerful. I was powerful and so very lonely. That's part of the reason I like to surround myself with people these days. I simply can't help but lord over others, as my critics would put it. The truth is that some of us are simply more ... adept at certain things compared to everyone else; I just happen to be adept at, well, everything, ha ha.

Thank you, that's very kind. It warms my heart to hear that people believe I could run the Ministry of Magic someday, especially since I've been thinking about doing exactly that.

Why?

That's quite the question; I'll certainly to my best to answer it, darling.

After my last adventure, you know, the one I wrote about in _Astounding Albanian Adventures_ , I found myself a new man. What happened to me there, in the forest, completely altered my soul. I was thinking. Truly thinking. It was as if I'd finally used my mind for the first time. The chance to start anew was laid open to me and I seized it with both hands, damn the consequences.

Fortunately, the consequences have been minimal.

What was that? Oh, believe me, I'm aware of how much these changes in me have surprised others. Is this really like Gilderoy Lockhart, people are wondering? I hear the rumours. Why, the other day, I read in the _Quibbler_ that I'm actually a Polyjuice-swilling imposter. Can you imagine? Perhaps I should tell them that they're a hundred percent correct on the imposter part just so I can see them scramble for something stranger in the next edition.

And yet ... yet as amusing as such reactions are, I think they come from a place of fear. People fear change. I want them to know that the changes I propose are for the better.

Wizarding Britain needs change if it is to survive, the sort of change that harkens back to a different era. Our values, our principles, our very way of life, it is all in danger of slipping away. Those ideas captivated me most when I first came into our culture and I indeed to preserve them, not just here but abroad.

Now, that may sound a bit old-fashioned of me, but it's what I believe. Over my lifetime, I've seen our people change too much. We fear magic we've never feared before. We divide ourselves by arbitrary distinctions. We allow alien values to intrude upon centuries of tradition ... How sad it would be for our world to simply wither and fade because we're too timid to say that magic has no comparison on this earth, that it has no equal.

I know that some of the more radical types have their hearts in the right place when they say that Muggles should be on even ground with us, but as it stands, we're more confined to our magical spaces than dragons are to their preserves. Our population is nearly as endangered as dragons well. Just the other week, there was that article in your paper saying how our birth rates are down. And yet Muggles have no problem at all with that. Sometimes I wonder if there might be a connection.

Oh, yes, I suppose that's just idle speculation to most wizards ... though in fifty years, in a hundred? Where will we be? There is no telling what threats to our rightful place we might face in a world that grows more dangerous and smaller every year.

The time to be proud of magic has come. We must, as a united whole, stand up and save ourselves. No matter our background, we're simply different from Muggles. Our divisions can never be repaired, not without extensive reforms. After all, if they found me a dangerous thing as a child, what would their populace at large think of adult wizards and witches? What would they do to us?

Nothing good, I can tell you that. Nothing good at all.

Ah, but here I am, so impassioned that I've forgotten my darling Rita. You have questions. Please, ask as many as you like. If I'm to help our nation, people should know the real me, not just 'Gilderoy Lockhart, author and adventurer', and you're just the witch to help me tell the world, dear woman.

We're going to accomplish great things together, I just know it.

 

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\- Finite -  
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End file.
